Chapter One
Shannon Piermont slowed the SUV to a crawl on FM 1077, trepidation filling her heart. Officially she hadn't been back in fourteen years—at least not to see anyone other than Gran. It felt like another life. In that old life, the world had been much simpler, Gran was alive and Dustin...
Just a quarter mile to go and she would be on his ranch, walking to the office to check in for her cousin's bachelorette weekend.
"I'm here for Bridgette,” she said out loud, as though hearing the words would erase the niggling doubt that she was really there for Dustin.
And maybe to convince him to forgive her.
She passed the driveway to Gran's property on her left, but Shannon couldn't bring herself to look in that direction. Too many memories, too many ghosts and regrets. Carolyn—she refused to think of the woman as “mother"—kept bugging her about selling Gran's ranch, threatening to take her to court if she didn't give in. Money hungry —
She bit back a sigh. No, she wasn't going there. She had enough to worry about with seeing Dustin again.
She made the next right onto the gravel road, the entry blocked by a massive beige cobblestone-and-wrought-iron gate. DUMEN RANCH was scripted in iron across the rounded top of the gate. The N in Dumen dangled.
Shannon chuckled. Apparently her generation wasn't the only one who snuck out at night to loosen the screws so that the sign to read “Dume.” And she'd bet she wasn't the only one to call it the “Do Me” ranch. She and Dustin had unscrewed the bolts on the sign almost every weekend, much to his father's annoyance.
She punched the code into the key box and waited for the gate to swing open, then drove the SUV along the winding gravel drive.
A small herd of longhorns—probably no more than a dozen—grazed in the pasture to her left, the Double D brand on their flanks. A half mile in, she turned into the parking lot at the bottom of the small hill. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the giant shade trees. Cutting off the engine, she grabbed her bag and stepped out into the humidity.
The place hadn't changed one bit. She closed her eyes and could almost smell fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, made by the loving hand of Mrs. Dumen. Home. Even after all this time, the ranch felt just as much her home as Gran's place.
The sidewalk to the two-story stone lodge was on an incline and by the time she reached the front porch, her calves burned—just a small reminder she'd lapsed on her workouts since coming back from Paris. The temperature inside the building felt cool against her heated skin. The interior was homey. Large wood beams framed the room and supported the roof and added to the rustic feel. It smelled of leather and sunshine. A few people milled around the room.
Offering them a smile, she crossed to the office and poked her head in the door. A thin blonde of twenty-ish, with baby blue eyes, looked up from her computer and leaned forward, pushing her exposed cleavage almost to her chin.
"Can I help you?” she asked with a lilting southern drawl.
"Checking in.” Shannon fished her wallet from her purse and handed over her driver's license and credit card.
"Of course, Miss Piermont. You will be in the Bronc Bustin’ cabin. I am supposed to tell you Bridgette will be in the Twisted Knot with Jessica."
Bridgette, the bride and reason for this weekend get together, was her older cousin and was marrying her college sweetheart, Adam. Jessica was probably Adam's friend, who Bridge had gushed about a few weeks back. Shannon bit back a sigh of relief. As much as she loved her cousin, and as nice as Jessica probably was, after a hellacious fashion month in Paris, missing Gran's funeral and a first-time homecoming, the last thing she really wanted was to share space with a gaggle of giggling women.
"Shay?” said a deep voice behind her.
She looked over and broke into a grin. “Dillon. Holy hell, you grew up good!” She raked her gaze over his tall,
Shannon Piermont slowed the SUV to a crawl on FM 1077, trepidation filling her heart. Officially she hadn't been back in fourteen years—at least not to see anyone other than Gran. It felt like another life. In that old life, the world had been much simpler, Gran was alive and Dustin...
Just a quarter mile to go and she would be on his ranch, walking to the office to check in for her cousin's bachelorette weekend.
"I'm here for Bridgette,” she said out loud, as though hearing the words would erase the niggling doubt that she was really there for Dustin.
And maybe to convince him to forgive her.
She passed the driveway to Gran's property on her left, but Shannon couldn't bring herself to look in that direction. Too many memories, too many ghosts and regrets. Carolyn—she refused to think of the woman as “mother"—kept bugging her about selling Gran's ranch, threatening to take her to court if she didn't give in. Money hungry —
She bit back a sigh. No, she wasn't going there. She had enough to worry about with seeing Dustin again.
She made the next right onto the gravel road, the entry blocked by a massive beige cobblestone-and-wrought-iron gate. DUMEN RANCH was scripted in iron across the rounded top of the gate. The N in Dumen dangled.
Shannon chuckled. Apparently her generation wasn't the only one who snuck out at night to loosen the screws so that the sign to read “Dume.” And she'd bet she wasn't the only one to call it the “Do Me” ranch. She and Dustin had unscrewed the bolts on the sign almost every weekend, much to his father's annoyance.
She punched the code into the key box and waited for the gate to swing open, then drove the SUV along the winding gravel drive.
A small herd of longhorns—probably no more than a dozen—grazed in the pasture to her left, the Double D brand on their flanks. A half mile in, she turned into the parking lot at the bottom of the small hill. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the giant shade trees. Cutting off the engine, she grabbed her bag and stepped out into the humidity.
The place hadn't changed one bit. She closed her eyes and could almost smell fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, made by the loving hand of Mrs. Dumen. Home. Even after all this time, the ranch felt just as much her home as Gran's place.
The sidewalk to the two-story stone lodge was on an incline and by the time she reached the front porch, her calves burned—just a small reminder she'd lapsed on her workouts since coming back from Paris. The temperature inside the building felt cool against her heated skin. The interior was homey. Large wood beams framed the room and supported the roof and added to the rustic feel. It smelled of leather and sunshine. A few people milled around the room.
Offering them a smile, she crossed to the office and poked her head in the door. A thin blonde of twenty-ish, with baby blue eyes, looked up from her computer and leaned forward, pushing her exposed cleavage almost to her chin.
"Can I help you?” she asked with a lilting southern drawl.
"Checking in.” Shannon fished her wallet from her purse and handed over her driver's license and credit card.
"Of course, Miss Piermont. You will be in the Bronc Bustin’ cabin. I am supposed to tell you Bridgette will be in the Twisted Knot with Jessica."
Bridgette, the bride and reason for this weekend get together, was her older cousin and was marrying her college sweetheart, Adam. Jessica was probably Adam's friend, who Bridge had gushed about a few weeks back. Shannon bit back a sigh of relief. As much as she loved her cousin, and as nice as Jessica probably was, after a hellacious fashion month in Paris, missing Gran's funeral and a first-time homecoming, the last thing she really wanted was to share space with a gaggle of giggling women.
"Shay?” said a deep voice behind her.
She looked over and broke into a grin. “Dillon. Holy hell, you grew up good!” She raked her gaze over his tall,
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